As the rain falling out of the clouds becomes the life origin for plants, so the stream of creativeness becomes the source of life for a man. Let us feel the pulse of a creative spirit within a man, which sustains his or her vitality, for it, is the only way for one to join the river of eternity. As this truth submerges a man in joy like the sunrays, he or she feels incredibly happy. The spirit of creativity like a stream flowing in a man and watering a dry land of his or her soul, refreshing it and awakening up new forces
The only thing more dangerous then a vampire crazed with blood lust was a vampire crazed with anything else. All the meticulous single-mindedness that went into finding young women who slept with their bedroom window open got channeled into some other interest, with merciless and painstaking efficiency...
Andy Dufresne: 'That's the beauty of music. They can't get that from you...haven't you ever felt that way about music?'Red: 'I played a mean harmonica as a younger man. Lost interest in it though. Didn't make much sense in here.'Andy: 'Here's where it makes the most sense. You need it so you don't forget.' Red: 'Forget?'Andy: 'Forget that...there are places in this world that aren't made out of stone. That there's something inside...that they can't get to, that they can't touch. That's yours.'Red: 'What're you talking about?'Andy: 'Hope.
It was here that the thaum, hitherto believed to be the smallest possible particle of magic, was succesfully demonstrated to be made up of /resons/ (Lit.: 'Thing-ies') or reality fragments. Currently research indicates that each reson is itself made up of a combination of at least five 'flavours', known as 'up', 'down', 'sideways', 'sex appeal' and 'peppermint'.
If you think you're beaten, you are; If you think you dare not, you don't;If you'd like to win, but think, you can'tIt's almost a cinch you won't.If you think you will lose, you're lost;For out in the world we find,Success begins with a fellow's will,It's all in the state of mind.If you think you're outclassed, you are;You've got to think high to rise.You've got to hustle beforeYou can ever win a prize.Life's battles don't always goTo the stronger or faster man,But sooner or later the man who winsIs the one who thinks he can.
Somebody said that it couldn't be done, But he with a chuckle repliedThat maybe it couldn't, but he would be oneWho wouldn't say so till he'd tried.So he buckled right in with the trace of a grinOn his face. If he worried he hid it.He started to sing as he tackled the thingThat couldn't be done, and he did it.
I have discovered that when we least care to admit it, we feel more confused than thankful, more caught than called, more worried than gracious. In humble moments when we can no longer gloss over the roughness of life, gratitude has a way of pushing out the real soreness of feeling cheated or inadequate to the rugged realities of the world. Gratitude seemed to be a handy response to dodge the tough things for which there are no simple or comforting answers.
An artist has to go to every extreme, to stretch his sensibility through excess and suffering in order to feel and to communicate more. I have always been fascinated by blood. Pain can be vitalizing; it gives intensity in the place of vagueness and emptiness. If we don't suffer, how do we know that we live?
Make a memory with your children, Spend some time to show you care; Toys and trinkets can't replace those Precious moments that you share. Money doesn't buy real pleasure, It doesn't matter where you live; Children need your own attention, Something only you can give. Childhood's days pass all too quickly, Happy memories all too few; Plan to do that special something, Take the time to go or do. Make a memory with your children, Take the time in busy days; Have some fun while they are growing, Show your love in gentle ways.